


brighter than the sun

by schwanenkoenigin



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Fluff, Humor, Love at First Sight, Smut, Summer Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-09 08:47:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13477893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schwanenkoenigin/pseuds/schwanenkoenigin
Summary: Holidays. An island. A sunset.“Come on, it’ll be beautiful. It’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?”Beca bit her lip. “I’m not sure anymore.”*three-shot





	1. daiquiris and beautiful girls

**Author's Note:**

> hi hello it's me i hope you enjoy this au that literally nobody asked for

This was her first time away from home in _years_. After moving out of her parents’ house, she’d been busy with studying and trying to become financially stable, so there had been little to no time for any trips, never mind full blown holidays.

But here she was, sitting at the beach bar, enjoying what life in Fuerteventura had to offer. Her long dark hair flowed freely in the wind, and a big smile grazed her features as she realized that she’d made the perfect choice of location. The sun was shining down onto the sea, onto the sand, as well as onto the wooden chairs and tables in front of her. In the distance was a huge cruise ship which she could only faintly see; it promptly reminded her of the time she and her parents had been on one when she was only a tiny four-year-old girl.

Colorful memories flooded her brain and Beca sighed. This holiday was exactly as amazing as the one she was thinking of in that second, and, for the first time since she’d moved out and started college, she actually liked being where she was, liked being _herself_.

Closing her eyes, Beca breathed in the fresh air. She could smell the salty sea. She laughed quietly to herself. It was exactly what she’d wanted for so long. Hearing the waves crash, seeing palm trees swaying as soft breezes caressed their leaves…

It was perfect. Plain and simple.

Beca leaned forward and took a sip of her cocktail. _Daiquiri strawberry_ , the menu had read. She’d tried various drinks on the first night, but this one was the one that stuck. It smelled a little like bubble gum, but wasn’t as sweet. Cold and refreshing. She _loved_ drinks that were sweet–but not too sweet–and had lots and lots of ice in them. She always had. So this was sort of made for her.

She licked her lips to get one last taste and put the glass down.

As she got comfortable in her chair again, she looked around the bar and paths that led toward it. Really took in her surroundings. There were, of course, many bushes, trees and flowers, but also _people_. And people were interesting to her. More so than flowers and trees. She didn’t like being among lots of them, and even this situation–having someone potentially stare at here–gave her anxiety; yet, at the same time, people were fascinating.

Everybody had their own life, their own story. Still, all of them were here, right now, together. Had made the same choice. Had boarded a plane, had flown over to the island.

So now they were here, next to Beca, drinking beer, sipping wine, emptying shots, eating fries.

Beca smiled. She often found herself wondering if other people–even the ones who confidently walked towards the bar to order four sangrías–had insecurities, too. She found herself wondering if other people had waited for this holiday for years, too. She found herself wondering if other people wondered about people they crossed paths with, too.

Beca closed her eyes and took another deep breath. She couldn’t get enough of this air.

And as she took in the wind filled with the salt of the sea–now mixed with the faint smell of the chlorine from the pool–through her nostrils, she somehow, peacefully, fell asleep.

She woke up an hour later, still sitting in her chair, and with her back aching accordingly. She groaned as she tried to stretch her limbs, but quickly dismissed the idea as she realized where exactly she was. Her cheeks turned a bright shade of red–very noticeable even with her now tan skin–as she wished the ground would swallow her up. She’d wished she wouldn’t do anything embarrassing during the two weeks, yet here she was, all awkward, and not quite knowing what to do except hope nobody had seen her. (Or, worse, _heard_ her. Her friend Stacie had once mentioned that she snored quite loudly.)

It took a few minutes for her heartbeat to calm down and her cheeks to return to their normal color. Once they had, she could finally focus on something else again.

Just then, her stomach growled. “Great,” she mumbled. She checked her watch. It was 6:13pm, so she could get dinner already. Which was great. Amazing.

Not.

Because the attention had _just_ subsided, and now she had to get up. Getting up meant there were going to be eyes on her. Internally, she was a mess again, screaming, but she remained mostly calm on the outside. Slowly, carefully, she stood up and grabbed her bag, and then made her way back to the back entrance of the hotel as quickly as she could.

Her heart was thudding in her chest as she walked into the restaurant. Her gray eyes scanned the room in desperate search of an empty table. An empty table for two, not four. Never four. She couldn’t do that. She hated taking up more space than necessary.

After being led towards the window where a couple had just left, Beca put down her bag, and went to get a drink to put on the table–effectively signifying that the space was taken. Being in the mood for a coke, she poured herself one and did as she had planned.

Back at the buffet, she was lost, as usual. She never quite knew what to eat before she entered the restaurant; she never knew where to start. Cold cuts? Bread? A hot meal right away? She had no clue. Biting the inside of her cheek, she turned to the right and made her way to where the fries usually were. She waited in line for a few seconds, yet again taking in her surroundings.

She was always paranoid in situations like this. Being in line for the fatty foods, she was a thousand times more insecure, more anxious than usual. See, she wasn’t exactly as skinny as the rest of the people standing in front of her, standing next to her, sitting at the tables. So, going for fries, bacon, and any other food of the sort made her think people were watching her, judging her.

In reality, nobody cared, but Beca still doubted she was allowed to eat what she _wanted_.

She breathed in and bit her lip. _Screw this_ , she told herself after a while, _I’m on holiday. I can treat myself. I deserve this_.

The words had their effect. Beca wasn’t as worried as before for the rest of her meal. She actually smiled, too, every now and then, not feeling bad about the pasta, the meat, the lack of tasteless salad on her plate anymore.

(She kind of wished that mentally reminding herself that–no matter her weight–she was worth as much as everyone else _always_ worked like this.)

Dinner passed fairly quickly for Beca, as she didn’t spend too much of it just sitting there, awkwardly gathering up the courage to get more food. And once it had, she found herself outside of the hotel by the pool, looking up into the sky and thereby realizing that the sun hadn’t set yet.

She immediately got an idea. A day earlier, she’d checked out the part of the beach closest to the hotel–in front of the bar, basically–and seen that a lot of people sat on a tiny wall, basking in the bright light shining down on them from above the sea. It had been well into the afternoon, which meant the sun was going to set in almost the same spot. Beca decided right then and there to watch the spectacle that she had longed to watch since– _forever_.

She made her way towards said spot–ordering another daiquiri as she passed the bar–and once she’d reached it, she laid out her towel to sit on. A few others had, of course, had the same idea, but Beca didn’t mind. She simply sat down and looked off into the distance like everyone else. It would take another half an hour until the sun would set, however, so she leaned back–careful not to fall, though–and occasionally sipped on her drink as she waited.

The smell of salt hit her again as the wind changed, and she closed her eyes to take it all in. It was heavenly. Strawberry on her tongue, the ice cold glass in her hand, the incredible smell of the ocean in her nose–she never wanted to leave the place ever again.

“It’s beautiful.”

Beca’s eyes shot open. Her head turned to the person whose voice she’d just heard as she straightened her back. When she found out who’d said the words, her breath got knocked out of her lungs.

Beside her sat the most beautiful girl she’d ever laid eyes on.

Beca swallowed. Her first instinct was to run. Well, no, scratch that, she wanted to run and cry for her mother. But this was her first holiday alone, and she couldn’t possibly make a fool of herself in front of the girl, so–

She swallowed again. And she blinked. Twice. Thrice. Four times. Didn’t say a word. Just stared blankly ahead. Right through the beautiful stranger. She couldn’t look _at_ her. She couldn’t. People– _girls_ , pretty girls–intimidated her to no end, and this one in front–next to–her couldn’t have talked to _her_. She was skinny, and her hair was long and red, and she was wearing these incredible jean shorts, and this amazing black top, and her eyes were the brightest shade of blue she’d ever seen, and–

Beca might have been staring _at_ her after all.

“Are you okay?” the stranger suddenly asked, and Beca shook her head to pull herself out of her reverie.

 _Answer_. “I– yeah, I am,” she said in a whisper.

The girl looked a little worried, but soon put on a smile again. Her smile. God. Her smile made her appear even brighter, even more beautiful. It made her _perfect_. “Okay. Well, I’m Chloe,” she introduced herself to a still dry-mouthed Beca.

“Uh–” she stuttered, “I’m– I’m Beca.”

Chloe’s smile grew wider. “You have a beautiful name,” she said.

Something about her was so earnest, so _good_ that Beca believed her right away. Usually, she’d think that it was a prank, that it wasn’t truthful, but with the girl right here, she–

“A beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” Chloe added. A smirk appeared on her face, and for a second Beca’s doubts were back. Chloe probably noticed her change in facial expression, though, because she continued, now smirk-less, “I don’t mean that in, like, a fuckboy-ish way. I just mean– I just think you’re pretty.”

Beca bit her lip as she noticed Chloe’s cheeks redden. The girl really meant her words. And so, she found herself say, “It’s okay. I think you’re very pretty too.” Unfortunately, once she’d said that, she couldn’t stop. She rambled on, “Which is why I didn’t know if you really meant me. I don’t usually– well, and then I saw your face and honestly– God, I just get so intimidated by pretty people and I– I wasn’t sure if you really– but obviously–” Self-awareness had always been Beca’s forte. “I’m rambling, aren’t I? Sorry.” Her face turned red as she looked down at the sand. She drew a figure in it, avoiding looking at Chloe.

“I think it’s endearing,” the girl admitted quietly.

Beca looked up. Her heart fluttered as her eyes met Chloe’s. The girl really did seem interested in her. This hadn’t happened to her in so long that she had forgotten what it felt like–to have someone like you, to have someone think about you, to have someone talk to you because they felt the strong need to connect with you. “Yeah?” she finally asked in a low voice.

“Yeah,” Chloe said, voice equally low.

Beca’s eyes were still glued to Chloe’s. She didn’t find the strength to look away. On the contrary–she felt a pull, a magnetic pull, that made her move closer to the pretty girl next to her. She kept moving until they were only inches apart, and just when their hands touched on the warm wall they were sitting on, Chloe whispered,

“You may want to pay attention, the sun is about to set any moment.” The look on her face didn’t match her words, though. It rather invited her to keep her eyes on her face. “Come on, it’ll be beautiful. It’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?”

Beca bit her lip. “I’m not sure anymore.” It was true. She wasn’t so sure if she was staying because of the sun–which she hadn’t thought about in minutes if she was being honest–or Chloe, beautiful Chloe, who had turned her into mush with one look.

A chuckle. “Seriously,” Chloe said a little louder, “you don’t want to miss this.” She winked.

Beca’s knees turned to jelly at that. She’d never be able to get up from where she was sitting again. But–at least she had someone next to her who she could spend the time with. Oh, God, she was done for already. Clearing her throat, she finally managed to tear her eyes from Chloe’s. She shook her head and looked at the setting sun. And Chloe had been right. It was a sight. “Wow,” she breathed.

(Still–she wasn’t sure if maybe watching Chloe would have been just as amazing.

But, yes, the sky _was_ quite something.)

Beca watched and watched and watched in awe as the sky got darker. From the sounds she heard from time to time she assumed a lot of the others–if not all–had packed their bags and left by now, which meant she and Chloe–

She blinked, trying to enter reality. Her eyes immediately scanned her right, and– yeah, Chloe _was_ the only one still here, and she was not watching the sky, she was watching Beca. Said, “You’re far more interesting than that orange color I’ve seen hundreds of times before,” just as Beca’s eyes settled on her face.

Beca’s cheeks flushed and her heart–which had remained relatively calm over watching the sun and spectacular colors the sky had had to offer–instantly picked up its pace. Still, she somehow managed to say, “I could watch you for hours, too.” It was cheesy, she knew it. But she couldn’t have cared less, sitting there, facing the prettiest girl in the world. A girl who she was sure wouldn’t grin or laugh about it.

And, no, Chloe didn’t. Instead, she smiled another one of her bright smiles, and asked, “Would you like to go on a date with me, Beca?”

The way her name rolled off of Chloe’s tongue so incredibly easily–like she had never said any other name in her life–made Beca shiver. She couldn’t say no. (Not that she would have ever considered that, anyway.) And so she found herself laughing heartily and saying, “Yes.”

* * *

It was seven, exactly the time Beca had agreed to meet Chloe at, and the lobby was filled to the brim. Nearly bursting at the seams.

Most people had already eaten and were now settling into then nice, big armchairs, effectively continuing their night. With lots and lots of alcohol, of course.

Beca swore she could have reeked the vodka from half a mile away. But she wasn’t that far away. No, she was right there, in front of the big staircase leading to the reception–which was one level above her–looking around to catch a glimpse of Chloe.

They’d agreed to meet after dinner since _that_ would have been more stressful than anything else–eating in a hotel restaurant. They had been reluctant to go out into town, too, seen as they didn’t want to spend any extra money. Drinking together, enjoying the rest of the night, seemed more appropriate and a lot more fun to them, so here Beca was.

“Hey,” the other girl suddenly whispered into her ear. Beca had been so focused on replaying the other day in her head, she hadn’t noticed Chloe walk towards her from the dining room. She shivered.

“Hi,” she mumbled back, goose bumps all over her body.

“You look incredible,” Chloe complimented.

Beca blushed. She had thought about what to wear for what had felt like hours, never being quite satisfied with her look. It was hard for someone like her to find flattering clothes, really, but in the end she had settled on a simple pair of jeans along with a white top. She had put a dark blue–almost black–jacket on top of it, too, feeling insecure about how the shirt made her stomach and hips show. Now that Chloe had told her she liked it, though, she could breathe again. She smiled, too. Bit her lip in humility. “Thank you.”

She then took in Chloe’s clothes. And–what else should she have expected?–they were stunning. Hugged her figure perfectly. She wore another pair of shorts–black–which showed off her tan, muscular legs. Her shirt was yellow–a very nice shade of yellow–and its sleeves were rolled up to her elbows.

Beca bit her lip harder. The outfit was hot as hell–at least in her opinion–and her body reacted accordingly. She felt heat spread through it. _God, say something. Don’t make it weird now_. “You– God,” she stuttered, “I– you look–” she rolled her eyes at herself– “you look gorgeous.”

Chloe smirked. “Thank you. Shall we?”

“Sure,” Beca replied. _Get it together_ , she mentally scolded herself, _don’t go drooling all over her. Not just yet_. The last part made her cheeks redden. Thank God Chloe was in front of her and didn’t see.

The girl led her out the door of the lobby–different from the one she used when she got back from the pool, though–and walked straight toward the table furthest from it.

Nice, cozy and private. Good thinking.

As Chloe offered her one of the chairs, she asked, “What do you want to drink? I’ll go back inside and order.”

Beca was about to go for her usual drink when she stopped herself. “I– what do _you_ drink?” she asked instead.

“I’ll have a shot of vodka and some coke, I guess.”

“Alright, well–” Beca really didn’t like vodka. Ordering something for the sake of starting off this relationship well wasn’t a great idea. Still, she contemplated it for a second. Until she explained, “I uh– I don’t do vodka. So I’ll have a strawberry daiquiri and some– some whisky.” She smiled up at a still standing Chloe. “Please.”

“Sure, daiquiri and whisky coming right up.” With that–and a wink–she was gone.

It didn’t take long for Chloe to come back with their drinks.

It didn’t take long for Beca to zone out after that, either. The date, for her, passed in a blur. Alright, well–not completely. She did listen to Chloe. She answered, too, whenever she had to. Which meant she definitely heard Chloe say she lived in the same city as her–Miami–and she definitely also heard her talk about having studied at the same college. Coincidences.

(Chloe at some point told her she was into girls, but that specific point didn’t exactly come as a surprise to Beca.)

Beside all of _that_ , however–again, kind of a blur.

It wasn’t until her back hit the mattress of the bed in her–or was it someone else’s?–room that she zoned back in. And, of course, the first thing she did was panic. She pushed the person off of her.

A groan followed the action. A groan that had unmistakably come from Chloe’s mouth.

Alright, at least Beca had taken home–or gone with–the right girl. That sort of helped her state. But not much. She said, voice hushed, “Oh, my God,” and covered her mouth as she sat there, lost, on the bed.

Chloe–now sitting down next to her–put a hand on her jean-clad thigh. Looked at her encouragingly.

Beca reciprocated. “Sorry…” She trailed off. She didn’t know–well, anything.

Chloe squeezed her thigh. “It’s alright. Just tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.” She smiled.

Beca took a deep breath. God, was she glad she’d met this one. Met someone who understood her, didn’t force her to do anything, _talked_ to her. She became calmer instantly. “I–” She cleared her throat. Then went on, “I’m just so– I’m insecure. I don’t– I’ve never–” Her voice was full-on shaking. She tried to swallow the tremor, but it didn’t work. So she simply continued, “I’ve never done anything like this before. Slept with someone I’ve just met. But that’s because I– I usually take– I take so long until I trust someone, and even then I don’t feel entirely comfortable being–” she looked down, fidgeting with her hands awkwardly– “being naked around or with them.” Her last words came out whispered.

Chloe hummed. “I get you. I do. And I won’t ask you to do anything you don’t want to,” she explained quietly. “But I won’t lie and say I don’t want you, either. Because I do. Still, I will accept if you say that this is moving too fast for you.” She put her fingers under Beca’s chin, lifted it up to make her look at her. “I need you to know that I would never judge you. Your body. You’re fucking stunning. Believe me.”

Beca bit her lip. The words did do something to her. Something good, something great. They set her body on fire. With the way Chloe looked at her–like she wanted her, really, really wanted her–it was becoming hard to resist.

And–did she actually _want_ to resist? Did she really want to resist Chloe, the most beautiful girl she’d ever met, the girl who’d just told her _she_ was into _her_? Unconditionally?

The answer was _no_ –she didn’t want to resist. “I–”

“Do you trust me?” The question caught her off guard, and she was taken aback for a second. She blinked as it echoed in the air. In her head. Did she trust her? _Did_ she?

The answer was _yes_ –she did trust Chloe. How, why–she didn’t know. All she knew was she did. She wanted this girl.

And she could have her.

So she leaned towards her and claimed her lips in a bruising kiss. Took her lower lip in between hers, bit it. Made her moan. Smirked against her lips. Kept kissing, kept connecting their lips whenever they’d broken apart for air.

She’d never known she was capable of this, but–she found herself taking charge. Which was weird seen as she’d been the shy one so far, had been the anxious one, had always, in all her life, needed reassurance, but right now–

Right now, Chloe’s words were playing over and over again in her brain, and she felt so wanted, felt how desperately Chloe’s hands clung to her body, that she pressed the slightly older girl into the mattress and climbed on top of her.

She didn’t think about how her weight, her body might have turned Chloe off–no, she listened to and basked in the girl’s moans and groans–like she did every evening with the ocean and sun–as she ground down, ground her thigh into her center.

Beca let her lips wander to the girl’s neck. She sucked on the flesh there–and, of course, bit the extra sensitive spots–very much intent on leaving hickeys. She knew she’d love seeing Chloe’s body covered in marks. Marks that meant she belonged to her.

She supposed she could get a little possessive. Nobody could blame her, though, Chloe _was_ smoking, and she wanted her to herself, even if they’d just met.

A whimper made Beca bite down especially hard. A low, “ _God_ ,” was whispered into her ear, then, followed by, “make love to me, Beca.”

Beca moaned at the words. And how could she not have? This was turning her on more than she could ever have imagined, and she didn’t waste any more time. “Undress me, then,” she ordered. She supposed a little fun couldn’t hurt in the process.

Chloe sat up, effectively making Beca do the same. She looked at her with lust written all over her face and grabbed the hem of her shirt to get rid of it.

Apparently, their jackets were already somewhere on the floor–Beca hadn’t noticed until now that they weren’t wearing them anymore.

Beca did the same to Chloe–she took off her top and threw it off the bed. Next up were their bras. They got rid of them quickly, too, before moving on to the lower parts of their bodies. Their pants were kind of a problem–but not really–because of their tightness, but even those went off fairly fast.

Before taking off their underwear, their lips locked in another heated embrace. Beca was back on top, still taking the lead, still biting and sucking and nibbling whenever–and wherever–she could.

Her lips started wandering again. She ignored Chloe’s neck this time and immediately moved down to her breasts. She moaned as she licked around one of the nipples for the first time. Chloe’s skin was so smooth and creamy and– _ugh_ , she was delicious. “I love your tits,” she breathed out, not knowing where that had even come from. She brought her hand up, circling the other nipple with her thumb as she kept nipping, kept licking.

Chloe’s hips bucked up. “Please, Beca,” she begged.

Beca was now taking care of the other nipple with her mouth. She took her time, sucking and biting and– “Please what?” she suddenly teased.

Chloe exhaled soundly. “I– _Fuck_ me.” It was a plea, a demand, something that made wetness pool between Beca’s legs.

She didn’t know what she’d planned, exactly–but she realized in that second that, whatever it had been, she couldn’t follow through. She had to taste Chloe, and she had to do it soon.

So she let her lips wander even more south. Until she arrived where she’d longed to be all this time. She took off Chloe’s underwear agonizingly slowly–some more teasing didn’t hurt–and finally threw it behind her.

“Please,” Chloe repeated breathlessly.

Beca lowered her mouth, then. But she still wasn’t touching her. She could smell her, though, and she swore it was sweeter than any daiquiri, more heavenly than any holiday breeze. She could–wanted to–get used to this.

She brought her finger up, and– and she finally let the tip of it sink into velvety smoothness. She moaned at the sensation, along with Chloe. Moving her finger, she watched the girl’s reaction.

She had closed her eyes and was knitting her brows, enjoying everything Beca did to her. Beca felt powerful, confident, as she moved her finger down into Chloe’s wetness. She gathered some of it before–

“Fuck.”

She sank her finger into Chloe’s slit, carefully, intent on stroking her walls just right. It had the effect she’d waited for.

Chloe couldn’t hold back, let out helpless whimpers, moans, groans which, unsurprisingly, grew infinitely louder when Beca put her tongue into the game she was playing.

She started out slowly circling the girl’s clit as she continued thrusting her finger into Chloe’s wetness. As her circles became firmer and her tongue quicker, however, she replaced her one finger with two.

Chloe _screamed_ , and Beca almost came right then and there. She ground her hips into the mattress under her, trying to get some friction, some relief, but it didn’t work. She continued trying to focus on the girl beneath her instead, but she was still incredibly turned on herself.

Beca thrust into Chloe deeper and harder, then, intent on giving her what she obviously wanted–to come–and she didn’t care at all about the wet noises coming from between them. She kept fucking Chloe, kept curling her fingers in what she knew was just the right way, kept flicking her tongue over her bundle of nerves.

“I’m–” Chloe suddenly grabbed Beca’s head with one hand–her nails scratching its back–and pulled her hair with her other. It spurred Beca on more, she knew Chloe was right at the edge. All she needed was– “Fuck, _Beca_!”

Another finger.

That’s really all it took. “I’m– _God_ , I’m coming!” She cried out over and over again as she clenched around Beca’s fingers, a gush of wetness running down the smaller girl’s hand and onto the sheets.

Beca clenched her thighs together as she took in a recovering Chloe.

The sight was utterly beautiful.

Her hair was all messy, sweat had formed on her heaving chest, and her sex was dripping with the juices she’d released.

Beca leaned down to get another taste of her. Chloe’s thighs closed around her head instantly–probably the over-stimulation’s fault–as she licked up her slit, collecting every drop she could reach.

Bliss. That’s all Beca could describe her feelings as as she climbed up Chloe’s exhausted body to lie next to her. She put on a grin as she looked into the girl’s bright eyes.

 _God, those eyes_.

“You okay?” she asked dumbly.

Chloe laughed breathlessly. “Yeah, better than ever.”

Beca kissed her, then–not being able to hold back any more, and not caring if Chloe found it weird–sharing the taste or her own orgasm with her, and was met with a low moan. She pulled back after only a few seconds and pushed a strand of hair out of Chloe’s face. “You should rest.”

“I should,” Chloe contemplated out loud, “but I won’t.”

With that, a still exhausted Chloe climbed on top of her. It was a surprise, to say the least; Beca really hadn’t expected to– well, to be on the receiving end tonight, too. Had expected Chloe to be too tired.

Boy, had she been wrong.

Chloe smirked and ground down into her, effectively mirroring her earlier actions. Beca couldn’t have stopped the dirty moan falling from her lips even if she’d wanted to. She was too aroused. Wanted Chloe too much.

“You’re so wet,” the girl observed as her fingers slowly came in contact with the soaked material of Beca’s underwear. Another moan made its way past her lips.

Lips that were instantly sealed with a hard kiss.

Beca didn’t know what to focus on. Her underwear was pulled off during the kiss, her wet center was being exposed, explored by skilled hands, and she honest to God didn’t even realize that, a second later, her mouth wasn’t being claimed anymore. It hung open, still, as Chloe’s lips connected with her neck–roughly, to leave marks–and then with her breasts.

Her nipples were being teased as she felt a finger slowly entering her body. No–two fingers.

Three.

She was so wet that her body didn’t protest in the slightest as Chloe thrust into her hard and fast and deep–just like she wanted, _needed_ it right now–and she let out the filthiest of moans as Chloe reached a particularly sensitive spot within her. “Fuck, yes, baby, give it to me,” she whimpered, then, and let her nails sink into Chloe’s back.

The girl bit down on her nipple at that. It sent a shockwave through Beca’s entire body, and her hips bucked. All the stimulation, the pleasure she’d given and received had put her _so close_ to the edge–

She just needed _some_ more. “Your– I need your mouth,” she moaned. _Demanded_.

Chloe looked up at her, made sure it was really what she wanted, and went to work. Went to do exactly what she’d been asked– told.

“Fuck,” Beca cursed. Her hands now grabbed the back of Chloe’s head; and– “ _Fuck_!” she cried out as the tongue she’d wanted for quite a while now hit her clit just right. She felt circles being drawn on it as she pulled Chloe’s hair. She pulled harder when she particularly liked something, like when her clit was being sucked on–God, she loved that. She couldn’t hold back her many moans and cries, either. She was too far gone to prevent them from leaving her mouth. Or to care.

With an incredibly rough thrust and a flick on her clit that was so, so, so _right_ , Beca came. Hard. Harder than she had in a while. Maybe ever. Her thick thighs trapped Chloe’s head–but she was too much in a bliss to care about potentially crushing it–as she pulled on the girl’s hair a little too roughly.

Chloe didn’t seem to care, either. Instead, she moaned loudly, along with her.

Beca felt herself clench around the fingers inside her over and over again as she enjoyed the last waves of her powerful orgasm, and only slowly came back to Earth as Chloe withdrew her fingers.

When she did come back to her senses, two blue eyes awaited her, staring tiredly–but satisfied–into her own.

“Hey there,” Chloe rasped.

“Hey,” Beca answered lazily. “Did you– did you enjoy yourself today?”

A bright smile. Followed by an exaggerated wink. “I did. I especially liked the ending.”

Beca closed her eyes, then, and laughed–and so did the girl next to her. They both simply lay there, in each other’s arms, enjoying the softness of the sheets. When Beca finally opened her eyes again–seconds, minutes, hours later–Chloe was still laughing quietly to herself.

And her eyes, in that moment, were brighter than the sun could have ever been, no matter what ocean reflected its light.


	2. road trips and confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise :)

Beca fished her phone out of her pocket. The landscape had been _so_  incredibly breathtaking that she had insisted they pull into the small parking space at the side of the road; the windows had been too dirty to take good photos through the glass. “Chloe,” she’d said excitedly to the redhead, “please, we need to stop here! Just look at all the palm trees and all the small houses!”

Chloe had, of course, agreed in an instant. She’d turned her head towards Beca for a second, raising a brow as to say,  _Really? We’re in the middle of nowhere_ , but as she’d looked back to face the road, a smile had appeared on her lips, and Beca had known she’d won.

She’d blown a kiss to the driver beside her, and waited patiently for her to stop the car. So now here they were, standing next to it, looking into the distance. Watching as the wind made the trees’ leaves dance and birds flew by.

At some point, Chloe disappeared from her side, but Beca was too busy to notice. She was taking in–soaking in–every detail the incredible view had to offer. What she did notice, however, was a pair of lips suddenly settling on the back of her neck. She shivered. She knew she was far too sensitive still–from the night before–to be able to resist long, but she also knew she couldn’t do anything with Chloe here–which she’d surely want to if the girl kept going. “Stop,” she giggled unconvincingly.

The mouth on her neck was relentless.

So she stepped away–as hard as it was. “Seriously, stop it, or I’ll have my revenge.”

Chloe raised her hands in defense. “Alright.” She let go, walked around the car, and right as she was about to get back into the driver’s seat, she winked. “I would have loved to find out what that revenge was about, though.” With that, she got inside, and Beca was left standing there, mouth open, but soon chuckling.

“Beale, you’ll be the death of me.” With that, she shook her head, huge smile on her face, and got into the car as well.

The rest of their trip was about as uneventful as it had been before. Occasionally, Beca and Chloe would belt out notes of random songs they recognized–and compliment each other’s voices–but, all in all, the drive was relatively silent.

They did, of course, take one or the other exit to explore the island more thoroughly. The one time Beca had wanted to take pictures hadn’t stayed the only. They had rented the white Volkswagen for the entire day, anyway, so it wouldn’t have been smart to just pass by everything at sixty miles per hour.

Chloe would randomly joke that everything looked the same, that most of the island looked pretty much dead, but Beca would just raise a brow at the girl, and she’d shut up.

Beca couldn’t deny that she had grown to like Chloe more than she’d expected. Had even grown to like her playful side. She’d grown to like every side of her, she guessed, because they all made her the girl she was–that added to her being perfect.

Which is why, when they both stood hand in hand in the middle of a long since abandoned village, surrounded by nothing but ruins and dirt, sand and dry grass, Beca found herself at peace, found herself enjoying every second.

Simply because Chloe was there.  _Chloe_ , the blue-eyed girl who she’d started to like so much more than she thought possible. And, every now and then during the day, she’d wonder if this was the correct way to feel, if this infatuation wasn’t going through the roof a little too fast–especially since they’d only spent a week together–but then their mouths would connect in a heated embrace, and she’d decide that, yes, this was right, this was fine, and maybe, just maybe, she could maybe fall in love.

Because maybe this was what  _it_ was all about–holding hands in the middle of nowhere, exploring old towns, making out on the hood of a rental car that they had packed full of snacks.

Yeah, maybe this was what falling in love could feel like.  _Felt_ like.

Not wanting to spend the rest of the day over thinking, Beca from then on tried to keep these particular thoughts at bay, lock them into the deepest and darkest corner of her brain. And it worked. At least while they were driving. She could focus on something else.

Like the fact that, for an island that wasn’t technically that big, Fuerteventura sure did have lots of roads to get lost on. Roundabouts that had the same villages’ names written on their signs, too, which only added to the confusion.

“We’ve got to end up at the sea, eventually, right?” Chloe had said several times, eyebrows knit in concentration, her hands gripped tightly around the steering wheel.

Beca had never replied, only bitten her lip–because, for some reason, she found Chloe’s scrunched up, frustrated face unbelievably adorable–and hummed in some sort of agreement.

The thoughts, she’d told herself again, they need to go.

Eventually, they entered another small town–willingly or not, it didn’t matter–which, surprisingly, had water,  _saltwater_ , and Beca was thinking that, maybe, getting out of the car could distract her.

(She could only hope.)

“Let’s stop here!” she exclaimed. Dunes and a long beach were to their left, as well as some sort of parking lot, and Chloe did as Beca wished.

Beca was glad to find herself thinking about something that wasn’t Chloe-related; instead–for the first time in God knew how long–she concentrated on the salty breeze coming from the ocean. She was in awe–the waves were big and their crashing was loud and everything was perfect. She clapped her hands, grin on her face, as she turned to the girl behind her. “Just look at this! I wish I could stay.” She sighed happily, effectively inhaling more of the wind she’d come to like so much.

Taking a look at Chloe let Beca know that she had relaxed, visibly, as her knitted brows and almost tortured expression had been replaced by what could possibly be interpreted as a smile.

Beca felt a hand slip into hers–just when she was about to close her eyes–and looked down at it. She gave the hand a squeeze, smiled up at Chloe, and then said, “Let’s sit.”

A frown showed on the other girl’s face. “I don’t have a towel.”

“Neither do I,” she giggled. “So what if our pants get dirty? I want to enjoy this as long as I can.”

“Okay, how about this–“ Chloe suddenly withdrew her hand and started hugging her from behind. Beca squealed as her waist was firmly gripped, as she was made to look at something in the distance. "See that house or whatever it is?”

Beca stared. And stared. And stared. And finally–she saw it. “That tiny thing?” she asked, bewildered.

“Tiny  _house._ Or whatever,” Chloe affirmed.

“Yeah, I see it. Why?” Where was this going?

“See also how there rocks there serve as wave-breakers? How about we drive there, get some snacks and sit down? We could watch the sunset from there. It’ll be all romantic.” Chloe chuckled into her hair. “Again.”

Beca considered the idea. It did sound amazing. Plus–they had done it before, and  _that_   had led to– stuff. Still, “It’s, like, four. How long are you planning on sitting there?” She escaped Chloe’s grip and turned around to look into her eyes.  _So blue_. She blinked.

“You said you wanted to enjoy this as much as you could,” Chloe pouted. “Do you not like my idea?”

“I do,” Beca assured–but, God, she didn’t care about any ideas in that second. All she wanted to do was to kiss that pout off of Chloe’s face. So she did. Heat of the moment–and the prospect of spending the evening next to Chloe. God, Beca was screwed. Chloe was all she saw, all she thought about. All she wanted. Her mouth was perfect against hers, fit like nothing else. She was the perfect height, was so huggable, so–dare she say it?–loveable. She almost said it out loud. Right then and there.  _I love you_. But it would have ruined this.

So she didn’t. She enjoyed the feel of Chloe’s lips moving slowly, carefully, gently, passionately against hers. Enjoyed the feel of her tongue tangling with her own, playing a game she’d never want to stop playing now that she knew she’d win every time.

They didn’t stop kissing until they’d run completely out of oxygen.

“Wow,” Chloe uttered, then, under her still catching breath, and looked Beca deeply in the eyes. “I like you.” Her hand came up to stroke Beca’s cheek, then her chin. “I _really_ like you.” She emphasized the words by leaning in for another short kiss, and, even though it only lasted for a second, it meant more than any of their previous kisses had.

Beca liked to imagine Chloe was voicing the same thought she’d had all day, was equally scared to word it the way her brain worded it, but was a lot more eloquent, therefore finding a way to say it without saying it–but still meaning it.

“I really like you, too,” she whispered, carefully intent on pouring everything she had into the words, into her expression, as she looked into Chloe’s hooded eyes. “I do.”

“Good,” Chloe answered, eyes sparkling with–something.

Something that let Beca know she’d understood her.

They pulled themselves out of their world soon after that, and actually went back to the car like they had before–joking, laughing, teasing. It was as if everything was as it had been when they’d gotten out of the car. It was as if nothing had changed.

Yet something had. Maybe  _everything_ had.

Was this– was this it? Was this what she’d been feeling? What she’d imagined?  _Love_? Was love what made them go back to normal mode after everything they’d just confessed? Was it their connection, their knowing where this was headed?

Again, she could only hope. But this time, she wasn’t sad or frustrated that she couldn’t stop herself from thinking about Chloe. No. She just took it as it came, smiled at this thing– _love for Chloe_ –that she had earlier claimed had been the pollution of her brain cells.

Now, she could look at Chloe, didn’t need a distraction, simply enjoyed how gorgeous the girl looked, how happy she, too, seemed to be as she watched the road, whistling notes Beca had heard before, but never quite this beautifully.

They arrived the house–the sign read  _castillo_ , but it was very far from a castle–and, lucky enough, found a free parking space. It was a patch of dirt, really, but they guessed being picky wasn’t something to be in Fuerteventura. Beca jumped out of the car and opened the trunk, which they’d filled right away with various snacks and drinks. They’d packed candy, a bottle of coke, some water–they had, however, forgotten to cool it, so it was probably a hot drink by now–as well as a few bags of chips and sandwiches.

“What do you want?” Beca called out, eyes big as she took in the insane amount of stuff they’d taken with them.

Admittedly, at first, she’d felt bad bringing this much–because of her weight. She’d been paranoid it would be what people would notice first–her, a chubby person, packing their trunk full of snacks, but Chloe had encouraged her, had told her that everyone was allowed to snack, to bring whatever they wanted, and that people who judged her could– that they could do stuff to themselves.

Beca chuckled at the last part.

“What’s so funny?” Chloe asked as she slammed the door shut. A second later, she stood next to Beca. “Huh?”

“I was thinking about what you said this morning. About people who– people who looked at my body wrong.” She bit her lip. Talking about the issue, remembering how she  _had_ gotten looked at before–not her favorite thing to bring up. Still, she kept explaining, “I’m specifically referencing the part where you said they could, quote, shove a huge dildo up their ass.” She blushed, then pressed her lips together in an attempt not to laugh again.

“Oh,” Chloe acknowledged, “yeah.  _That._ Definitely one of my better moments.” She grinned smugly, winked at Beca, and leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek. “Now, I definitely want sandwiches and chips. How about you?”

Beca didn’t even have time to answer. Chloe had already grabbed a bag of chips and two sandwiches, and ran towards the sea.

“See ya later!”

Shaking her head, Beca sighed. “You’ll  _definitely_ be the death of me.” Then, she reached into the trunk and got herself a sandwich as well. Before she left the car for good–ready to get the last part of their day started–she grabbed the bottle of water and checked if Chloe had locked the car. She had.

“Come on,” Chloe shouted, “it’s crazy up here!”

Beca couldn’t deny the statement made her giddy, so she hurried to get to where Chloe was– where she was  _sitting_ already. She shot her skeptic a look. It wasn’t exactly cold–it rarely was in July–but Beca did think twice about if she really wanted to sit  _here_. “Uh–you want me to get my butt on that cold ground? And–” she screeched as a particularly big wave hit the stone formation a few meters away from them– “is that water? I’m not–”

A calm voice interrupted her. A voice that was too calm–if you asked Beca. Wasn’t the girl the least bit bothered by the fact that a wave could have hit them at any time? Sure, they weren’t right by the edge, but– “The rocks aren’t exactly comfy, I’ll give you that but–damn, this view is awesome. You’ve seen how gigantic the waves are. And we have front row seats. I mean, come on, where else are you going to get this?” She leaned back. “The wind sure knows what it’s doing. I chose the right place.” Another smug grin.

“You know–” Beca put her stuff down after all, then raised her index finger at Chloe– “one day I’m going to punch that look right off of your face.” As if on cue, another wave hit. Beca instantly took a step back and turned her face in the opposite direction, feeling like this one had come nearer than the other ones had, but she couldn’t be sure. Maybe she desperately hoped to prove her point, maybe she in turn imagined things.

In response to her words, the other girl feigned surprise. “Mitchell! I thought you were anti-violence! Have you been lying to me?”

Beca turned back around once the water had ebbed. “I didn’t say what I’m going to knock it off with.” She showed her teeth in a massive fake smile. “I was going to use my mouth, obviously.”

Laughter echoed off of the brick wall behind them. “Naughty.”

Beca sat down, then, having given up on convincing Chloe to move somewhere else. If she was going to get wet, she could at least enjoy the view. Still, she didn’t stop herself from elbowing Chloe in the side. The girl yelped in pain–which made Beca a little proud if she was being honest–and matter-of-factly stated, “Let’s eat.”

“I thought we were waiting until we were back at the hotel.”

Confusion hit Beca. Hadn’t Chloe been the one to suggest eating here? Hadn’t she made it part of her compromise, that they got their snacks and–  _oh_. One glance at Chloe made realize that what she had said had in no way been related to food or snacks–she had referred to something they’d agreed upon in the morning, after breakfast.  _No sex in random spots while on the trip._

Covering her face, Beca giggled.  _Damn_ , she cursed internally, she’d wanted to  _groan_ , show Chloe she hadn’t made a good joke. Instead, a faint red color spread across her cheeks, and she demanded, “Stop that.”

“Make me.” It was a challenge, and Beca was awfully aware of that.

Seconds passed as she tried to make a decision. Was she really going to give in  _now_? She’d spent all day thinking about the girl in front of her, had spent all week doing that, even, and yet–the smug grin she’d seen on Chloe’s face today, just now, had made her promise herself she wouldn’t become weak, and fall into her arms. Call her a player–it was a fun game.  _Had been_ , until this moment.

The tension was building, Chloe was staring at her, daring her to make a move. Beca bit her lip–while staring at Chloe’s–not sure if she could, should, if she  _wanted_   _to_  hold back.

Part of her screamed,  _yes, you want to hold back, you can’t give her the satisfaction, she’s been teasing you all day, just waiting for you to break_.

Part of her also screamed,  _no, you absolutely do not want to hold back–who knows when this ends? You know you can’t get enough of her_.

A minute had passed–it had felt like hours–when Chloe’s hoarse voice reached her ears. “I can practically hear you thinking, Becs. You look like you’re fighting with yourself, and I have a solution. Or, rather, I’ll simply make the decision  _for_ you.”

Beca could swear that, as the wheels stopped turning in her head and she focused back on reality, the girl would be smirking, would have a teasing grin on her face, but she was– Beca couldn’t even describe it. It looked like a simple smile, but it bore so much. Happiness, nervousness, encouragement. There  _might_ have been a hint of teasing, yes, but Beca chose to ignore it because something else caught her attention.

It was something that had, in a way, been following her for a week, but had only really shown its head today, on their road trip.

She hadn’t dared think it after it had become clear to her earlier. But now here it was again.

 _Love_.

Love was on her brain–and on Chloe’s, apparently–and right as she became aware of it–of it all–everything was vanished from her mind.

Chloe’s lips sealed her own in a bruising kiss, and that was, yet again, the end of any coherent– of  _any_ thought. She kissed back desperately, clinging to her lover and encouraging herself to feel. She couldn’t, didn’t want to, didn’t need to overanalyze anything, she already had, and what she had found out had made it possible for her to feel, no thinking involved.

She had given herself to Chloe before, completely, but this time, it would be different. Even  _more_ different. And, as the red-haired beauty lay on top of her, entering her over and over again until she made her see stars, fireworks behind her eyes, whispering sweet nothings into her ear and thereby bringing her to climax after climax after climax, Beca knew they both felt it.

And as she, later, sank her fingers into Chloe until she couldn’t cry or scream or moan anymore, until she was so out of breath she almost passed out, it gave her so much happiness that she almost let  _it_ slip from her mouth.

But she didn’t.

Because, right then and there, as they were sweaty, staring at each other, embracing the warmth of the summer, her brain started working again.

It wasn’t unpleasant. It was a good thing. It stopped her from making the mistake she’d hoped she wouldn’t make, but assumed she would.

Thank God she hadn’t.

She leaned her head against Chloe’s chest, listening as the girl caught her breath.

Once she had, her first words were, “I knew in a way that we wouldn’t make it back to the hotel.”

Beca laughed. “Yeah, well, we might as well have. Look at the sky. There are clouds everywhere. I don’t think we have to stay.”

Chloe followed her words and looked up. Cursed, “Damn,” as she noticed. “They just had to ruin our last night.” She chuckled.

Beca froze. Only managed to blink.  _Last_ night? “What?” she uttered, confused. Her eyebrows knit in concentration as she tried to understand what Chloe was saying.

Well–she wasn’t saying anything now. Looked at the ground. Ran her hand through her still damp hair. “My flight leaves tomorrow evening. I told you last week. July 22nd.”

Taking in a shaky breath, Beca tried to make sense of the words, tried to make them sink in. “Right,” she whispered, “and that’s tomorrow.” A rather long silence followed in which neither knew what to say. They both stared at their feet, awkwardly smoothened their clothes from earlier activities. Beca glanced up at Chloe at one point, only to see that her smile had saddened. Oh no–she probably thought Beca would be angry she hadn’t mentioned it again. “Hey,” she said, “I’m not upset with you. I just–I didn’t think the night would end like this, that’s all. I was hoping– I was hoping we’d have more time.” She barely could prevent her voice from breaking. “I–” Until she couldn’t. Immediately, Chloe hugged her tightly, and she let herself cry. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Sh. It’s okay,” Chloe murmured against her hair, “I wish it were different, too.”

Beca’s heart was aching, her mouth was dry; she desperately tried to swallow the lump in her throat, again and again, but to no avail. Chloe was going to leave her, and she had not prepared herself for the letting go part. This entire day, she’d wasted no thought to an eventual farewell, never mind one that would happen so soon. She’d assumed there would be more time, that there were going to be more days for them to spend together. She’d been wrong. Well–she’d forgotten. Forgotten the date Chloe had told her back then.

Once she was calm enough–it took several minutes to get into that state–she ended the embrace and stood up. Chloe imitated her action, confused. “What’s going on?”

Beca grinned. It probably looked weird, with tears staining her cheeks, but– “Come on–“ she held her hand out for Chloe to grab it, which the girl did– “We have one last night to spend and no sunset to keep us from getting it started right now. At the hotel. Specifically, in my room. Or yours.” She winked, and Chloe laughed.

“Alright.”

It might have been weird to jump from one extreme–sadness–to the other–excitement–but this was her, this was Beca, and Chloe had come to know her, the real her. Which meant she didn’t mind the weirdness, liked it, even, and so they went back to the Volkswagen, hand in hand.

The car ride was as fun and easy as it had been before. Still, both Beca and Chloe were buzzing with the knowledge of what was to come, shared longing glances over the entire length of the drive back to the hotel, and, unsurprisingly, couldn’t wait to empty the trunk and return the car keys to the receptionist.

They needed the night to really start. Which, finally, it did as they entered Beca’s room. It being closer to the main entrance, they’d decided it was going to be hers this time. This last time.

They wasted no time. In kissing–which they began doing the second they’d crossed the threshold and closed the door; in undressing each other–which they did as soon as Beca shoved Chloe onto the bed impatiently.

“I want you,” she announced, breath uneven from the many minutes of locking lips. She saw the way Chloe looked at her, hungrily biting her lip, and she knew she didn’t have to wait for a reply. She instead dove down between Chloe’s now-bare legs, taking in the wetness which had formed there, and immediately got to work. With her lips, her tongue, her fingers.

And so the night was spent with the two girls bringing each other to one high after the other, sharing passionate kisses, chasing climax after climax, making the most of the hours they had left.

It was well into the morning–the phone read 4:39am as Beca sank down into the pillow next to Chloe, completely spent–when the two drifted away into the land of dreams. And dream they did. About each other, about the days they’d had together, and the days that were hopefully to come once they were both back in Miami.

* * *

The ride to the airport was about as fun as Beca had been expecting: it consisted mostly of sad half-smiles, shared between the two lovers of one week, and, for Beca in particular, of staring out of the window. She took in the fields of dry grass and sand, the various ruins, and, of course, the ocean whenever they drove by it, on the shore.

It was as if she was saying goodbye to the island; it felt like the end of her own vacation, not Chloe’s.

Chloe, sweet, beautiful Chloe who she’d made love to all through the night. The thought made her cheeks flush, and heat coursed through her body at the image of the girl writhing beneath her, begging to be filled again and again until she couldn’t take it anymore.

It had been the most fantastic night of her life–and the longest.

And maybe the last spent with the girl next to her. A girl who’d informed the reception that she’d take a taxi to the airport instead of the usual shuttle bus–insisting she’d want every second she could with Beca.

At that memory, the blush faded, and another sad smile replaced it. She squeezed the hand she held in her own as they waited in line for Chloe’s security check. Then, she turned her head, and simply said, “Thank you.”

“For what?” Chloe asked, mirroring the look on Beca’s face.

Beca remained silent. She didn’t know what she’d thanked her for. For everything, she guessed. From talking to her that night a week earlier, to wanting her to come to the airport so she could look at her face as she went through security. For seeing her, every part of her, not just the good ones, not just the bad ones. For letting her in, for letting her see her, for telling her secrets she’d never told to anyone.

For making a mere seven days the best time of her life.

Instead of answering, she leaned over and gave Chloe a kiss. It was one of gratefulness–she wanted to let Chloe know without having to go into a long rant about what she had done for her in the past week. She kissed her again and again, caressed her cheek at the same time, and when they broke apart for good, they rested their foreheads together. And finally, she said it. “I love you.” It was but a whisper. A whisper which could have easily been missed.

But she saw Chloe smile. It was the biggest smile she had yet seen on her, and she  _knew_ that Chloe felt it too.

So she’d been right. The sparkle in Chloe’s eyes when she looked at her, the emotion she hadn’t quite–but maybe in a way–figured out. It had been love all along.

“This makes it harder to let go,” Chloe voiced her thoughts, then. It wasn’t more than a whisper either. But Beca had heard her, and now felt a tear fall from her eyes–which Chloe promptly wiped away.

“I know.”

The following moments were spent hugging, and accompanied by a lot of tears.

“I don’t want to leave,” Chloe eventually murmured into Beca’s neck.

The action sent a shockwave down Beca’s spine, and she almost couldn’t reply. “You have to,” she found herself stating.

“Why?” The question was whined against her ear. Her cheek.

She’d asked herself the same question. More than once. She decided to loosen up the atmosphere with a joke instead of dragging herself–and Chloe–down even more. “It’d be too expensive to book a new flight.” She chuckled and looked at the passengers waiting around them as the tears on her cheeks were slowly drying.

She expected– no, she wanted Chloe to laugh, too. Not to say anything cheesy, anything sad, anything like– “But I want to spend more time with you.”

They broke apart, looked at each other’s faces.

“I want to spend forever with you,” Chloe said, another wave of tears collecting in her eyes. She started caressing Beca’s cheek–Beca, who had been stunned by her words–and smiled the most earnest smile she could muster up.

It was lovely. Chloe was lovely. And she had meant the words, Beca knew she had really meant them, and, right now, she wished for the first time that her holiday was shorter. In all the days she’d spent here, she’d always wished that it was longer, that there was more time to spend for her–at the beach bar, at the pool, looking at and smelling the sea–and right now–

“Promise me we’ll see each other again in Miami,” Chloe practically begged. And Beca looked at her, left her thoughts aside for a second, and smiled–as well as she could, with tears steadily running down her face again.

“I promise,” she sobbed out.

Just then–of course–it was Chloe’s turn for the security check, and Beca knew she had to let her go. For good. For real. of course, she still didn’t want to. Wished desperately, more than ever in this exact second, that she didn't have to.

Chloe looked up, shot an apologetic smile at the security people who simply called the next group, and then turned her head back to face Beca. An equal parts happy and sad Beca.

She was happy because she had met this beautiful person. She was happy because she had gotten to learn what it meant to be appreciated, understood, loved–there it was again, the word–and she was sad because– because she had to leave all of that. She was sad because she was going to lose the person who had brought it to her.

If only for a while.

Chloe pressed a kiss to her wet lips, a kiss they knew would be their last–for now, hopefully–and Beca tried to convey all of the emotions she was feeling.  _Had been_ feeling. Tried to tell her how much she had come to like her–  _love_ her–how much she would love to continue whatever had been and still was between them.

Chloe kissed back just as desperately.

Very soon, however, they had to break apart, and Beca had to say goodbye.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” Chloe said as she walked away, blowing Beca one last kiss.

Beca let out another sob. “You– you promise?” she asked as loud as she could, voice breaking halfway through.

“I promise,” Chloe shouted back.

And because Beca had come to know an all but earnest Chloe, she believed her.

Needless to say, she spent the rest of her holiday exactly the way she’d spent it before Chloe, but nothing seemed exciting anymore. Everything was about Chloe, about Chloe, about Chloe. She saw her in the sunsets, in her daiquiris, in her bed sheets. But Chloe wasn’t  _there_ anymore.

She couldn’t wait to get back to Miami, even if some dark twisted part of her doubted Chloe was waiting for her. The flight back home really,  _honestly_ couldn’t come soon enough.

As she boarded her plane on the last day of her holiday, everything inside her was longing, going crazy. Screaming,

_Please don’t break your promise._


	3. plane rides and forevers

Music. She tried music. During the entire flight, she kept pulling her headphones out of her bag, only to put them back in a song or two later. Distracting herself was pretty much impossible, too present were the memories she’d made. Memories of all the moments she’d spent with Chloe.

They were ingrained in her brain. Not even listening to her favorite band could do anything to ease the pain she was feeling, the pain that Chloe walking through security and leaving her behind had brought her.

She couldn’t stop the incessant worries that were nagging her in the back of her mind, doubts that Chloe really was at home waiting for her call. Waiting for _her_.

Beca sighed. She knew this was pointless. She hated making assumptions, hated over thinking, yet could never stop. She groaned and closed her eyes, leaned back into the gray worn out seat.

It had been such a good time with Chloe. The best time. The only seven days she’d have wanted to remember should she have suffered from an amnesia. Chloe had been gentle with her, caring, and she had a _great_ personality. She had also been passionate, claiming, rough–when she’d needed to be. When Beca had wanted her to be.

It was the perfect mix. Along with her sense of humor–Beca knew that she’d fallen. After confessing that to herself, she had inevitably been spending all her time thinking about Chloe. Whenever she had not had to focus on anything, her mind had automatically wandered to the girl.

Just like it had now.

Chloe. Chloe. Chloe.

She didn’t care about the clear sky she could see through the tiny window next to her, didn’t care about the movie they were showing.

There was only Chloe.

It had been good. _She_ had been good. So good, in fact, that Beca yet again wondered if, maybe, it had been– _was_ –too good to be true.

Maybe it had been a dream?

No, no, surely not. Chloe had definitely left her impression, her marks on Beca’s body. She blushed as, suddenly, images of a naked, sweaty Chloe flashed inside her mind. Biting her lip, she tried to push them aside.

It worked. But not in the way Beca had wanted to. She’d wanted not only to get rid of them, but rather of all thoughts connected to Chloe, if only for a while, especially since she knew that later, closer to landing, she’d freak out worse than she had.

Instead of that, however, some twisted part of her reminded her that people lied. Sure, she hadn’t had Chloe lie to her yet, and she deeply believed she wasn’t that kind of person, but  the depressed, the still _unconvinced_ part of her wanted her to be worried again. It got so bad within seconds–her heartbeat accelerated and she began sweating, not being able to handle one more second of over thinking–that she was sure she was going into cardiac arrest. Before being able to become fully aware of what exactly was going on, however, she passed out–fell asleep, finally–probably with the help of a few of her body parts desperately wishing for her to catch a break.

Waking up was– it was fine, at first. She stretched in her small space, yawned, and– and accidentally caught a glimpse of her watch.

She was going to be in Miami in a little under an hour.

Her insides obviously did not like that fact. Especially not her brain. Her constant thoughts–which had, thankfully, at least left her alone for the two and a half hours prior to this moment.

Her brain was on overdrive within moments after that. Her emotions, fears, thoughts started running amok. It was kind of like the Hunger Games–the last one standing would win. It was to no one’s surprise–least of all Beca’s–that _anxiety_ won. And, boy, did it win. It pumped its fists in the air, spun around, intent on showing its surroundings it _had_.

Beca felt like dying. She was now _sure_ that this was what cardiac arrest felt like. Her heart ached from the overload of brain cells turning against her, and she could barely breathe.

A flight attendant literally had to get her a glass of water–he’d caught on her condition saying, “Are you alright?” and she hadn’t even been able to reply, had simply nodded her head–before she got at least _slightly_ better.

A long-overdue holiday in paradise and a week full of passion had not been supposed to get her in a state like this. Everything was out of the roof–her anxiety, her record for ‘most nails bitten in the span of a day,’ her entire _body_ –by the time she stood at the airport, waiting for her bag.

At this point, she wasn’t even human anymore. Her limbs acted on instinct, on what they’d learned to do in her twenty-five years of living, she had no control over anything. She was on autopilot, and that autopilot sent her running out of the airport, into the not-so-fresh Miami air, and right as she hoped she could finally breathe, and be aware of it, she was stopped. By a body. Someone’s body.

She’d run straight into a person. Well, her autopilot had _made_ her.

Beca somehow managed to curse, to break through her not being able to have a say over what her body did. As soon as she became aware of the fact that curse was not the go-to thing to do to a stranger you’d accidentally bumped into, however–several moments passed until then–she tried to collect, gather up the _one_ ounce of strength she’d left in her exhausted self, and she looked up, intent on apologizing.

The apology got stuck in her throat.

Eyes were staring right into hers. And not just anyone’s. They were familiar eyes. Belonging to a familiar person. Why hadn’t she recognized their body before this? How hadn’t she realized right away who she’d collided with? She’d gotten to know this body, the eyes, _the eyes she was staring into_ , so well.

It was _Chloe_ she’d run into.

Sweet, beautiful Chloe who she had _so_ hoped would call her, would talk to her, would want to meet her again. Would want to _date_ her. Sweet, beautiful Chloe who had caused her flight to feel so awfully long, longer than anything she’d had to live through before. Sweet, beautiful Chloe who had promised to see her, to be waiting for her. Sweet, beautiful Chloe who her mind had tried to convince her was not sweet, was not beautiful, after all.

Her mind had been wrong.

Beca’s body shut down. She had no idea how to react. So many hours in the past days had been there in which she’d tried to prepare herself for any possible scenario–meeting Chloe again, dating Chloe, marrying Chloe, even never seeing Chloe again–and now, Chloe actually _was_ there, calm and collected, and Beca’s brain, Beca’s heart–they just stopped. It was too much for her. She couldn’t handle all of this at once. Her blood froze, _absolutely_ would not continue flowing. Her body completely betrayed her, and she swore she was about to pass out.

And, maybe, she did. Okay, she definitely did.

Because the next thing she knew, she was in Chloe’s car, on its back seat, specifically, and Chloe was stroking her cheek, probably had been doing this for a while, waiting for her to slip back into consciousness. “Hello there,” she greeted, and through her own half-open eyes, Beca saw both happiness and worry.

She felt a loose strand of her hair being put behind her ears, but beside that, she was still very far for functioning, from being aware of anything.

It took several more minutes for her entire being to arrive, to slip back into its physical form, and Chloe patiently waited. _Again_.

What Beca did next was–smile. She smiled. She cried. She laughed. All at once, she pulled Chloe close, as close as possible in their current position, and she felt Chloe’s own laughter vibrate against her, felt her breath against her hair, against the side of her head. She buried her cheeks, her face–with her wet, tear-filled eyes–in Chloe’s neck, and she felt–

Pure bliss. She could not name anything else, anything more fitting for the emotion she was feeling, for the state she was in. And, boy, this state was very much welcome, more welcome than any other one she’d been in the days before.

“I love you,” she whispered, not knowing what else to say. Nothing else could quite express everything she’d been through, what she’d suffered. What she was _feeling_.

“I love you too,” Chloe whispered back, and Beca only clung to her more. Because she, then, remembered that he girl and she always shared the same thoughts, the same expressions, and she knew Chloe had been through the same. Dilemma after dilemma, nagging thought after nagging thought, doubt after doubt, and–

It all came back. Everything positive, beautiful, _perfect_ they’d been through. Everything good Chloe had said. Her mind had been stripped of anything good, it had seemed, and now–it finally came back. Beca cried harder, and her fingers came into contact with bare skin as she’d slipped her hands under Chloe’s shirt, subconsciously seeking the skin contact she’d come to love, had missed so much, had told herself during the flight she’d one day manage to forget–would Chloe not text her or reply to her. Would Chloe not remember her. “I love you,” she repeated over and over again, and hearing the exact same words being mumbled back to her just as often, she felt at peace.

Just like the time they were standing in the middle of nowhere on an island of dirt and sand, she felt peaceful, at ease, and she was as calm as she sea had been on the evening that she’d met the girl she was hugging. Her insides did no longer feel blue, empty, cold, or like they were burning up from the racing thoughts her brain inflicted upon her; instead, she felt red, orange, pink, _warm_ ; she felt like the colors of the sunset that had brought her a perfect girl, a perfect girl who had been waiting for her, a girl who wanted her, loved her as much as she did her. She felt so good, better than she could remember she’d felt in what felt like an entire lifetime.

During the drive to Chloe’s apartment, Beca’s emotions slowly, carefully, showed themselves more and more. Her anxiety had backpedaled, apparently, in turn making room for others–positive ones. There was happiness, of course, and, more than anything, confidence about what was now definitely to come–time with Chloe, dates with Chloe, the _forever_ with Chloe she hadn’t, in the days prior, thought possible. Beca found herself smiling. To herself, at Chloe, at the grass outside. The trees, the flowers, the birds. Trees so different and yet so similar to those she’d seen on their road trip.

A road trip that had signified the end of what they’d had. What they now, at the airport, had found again.

Beca’s smile grew bigger instantly, and she had to bite her lip to stop herself from letting out a laugh containing all of what she’d been through in the past two hours alone. She felt Chloe’s eyes on her, then, and she turned to the driver next to her.

It was like Fuerteventura all over again. Them, driving around–though not aimlessly anymore–and looking at each other like they were the only people in the world.

The moment only lasted so long, of course, seeing as the older girl still had to watch the road.

Still, the few seconds had made Beca feel so much, and they had brought up memories, good memories, for once, and now she really _couldn’t_ stop the laugh bubbling up her throat from escaping. Finally, she let it out, didn’t want to hold back, showed Chloe how incredibly happy she was. How incredibly happy _she_ made her. And Chloe joined in.

They laughed until their bellies hurt, until their voices were hoarse. Until Chloe pulled into a parking lot. Their laughter slowly died down, then, and Beca bit her lip again, this time in wonders of what Chloe’s apartment would look like, and especially–inappropriately–in wonders of what her bedroom would look like. The thought made her bite down harder, but even that did not help prevent a red color from spreading over her face.

Just in that second–of course–Chloe opened her door–she hadn’t heard her leave the car, had been too busy, apparently–and held out a hand for her to hold onto while climbing out. As she looked up, she saw a huge grin. She’d been caught. Damn her body for giving her away.

“Are you ready for this?” Chloe teased as she helped her out. She wiggled her eyebrows, and Beca was about to reply something hopefully just as teasing when thoughts of even more inappropriate things entered her mind and the blush deepened. She tried to conceal this by looking anywhere but Chloe, by checking out their surrounding but Chloe still noticed immediately and said, “Oh, it looks like you _are_.”

Beca collected herself enough to stick her tongue out at the girl–effectively making her laugh again–and managed to close the door with the hand that wasn’t being held. She slapped the girl’s upper arm for good measure, and then they finally left the lot. Beca tried focusing on– on something again. Something _else_. Anything else.

She didn’t succeed.

But by the time she _realized_ that it wasn’t working, they were already in front of the apartment, and Chloe was ready to open the door.

God, this girl made her a mess, more so than she’d already been _before_ meeting her. Whenever they were together–and even when they _weren’t_ , obviously–all of her longed for her, craved her. Her thoughts were always occupied. She was either concentrating on Chloe, on what she was doing or not doing to her, or she was concentrating on trying _not_ to concentrate on her. Beca chuckled. She really _was_ done for.

Love very much did make one stupid.

“You alright?” Chloe wanted to know as she stepped across the threshold.

Beca looked at her–she’d raised a brow in amusement–but only sent her a short nod to affirm what she’d asked, too excited to see what her apartment was like.

Cozy was the first word that came to mind. It wasn’t big–they both weren’t exactly rich, so something small had to do. Still, Chloe had managed to make _something_ out of almost nothing.

Walking into the apartment meant walking into the living room. The walls were white, the carpet was some sort of light red. Or was it light pink? Rose? Whatever it was, it was something Chloe _absolutely_ seemed the type for, and it went incredibly well with the big windows, the sofa and TV, and the various plants in the corners.

To their right was the kitchen–a kitchenette, rather, since there wasn’t even a door–so Beca could see that the color scheme was present everywhere. White and rose, with some brown from the fridge strewn in.

“You have good taste,” Beca said, and gave a thumbs up at the girl in front of her.

“Thanks,” Chloe answered, smiling as she turned around and saw Beca’s gesture. “My bathroom is next to the bedroom over there–” she pointed to the door on the wall behind the TV–opposite the kitchenette, basically–and continued, “It’s not all that interesting, though. Lots of mint green.” Her smile turned into a grin.

Beca frowned. “How did you know I paid attention to the colors?”

“Easy, I know you.”

 _Endearing_.

“Come on, I’m sure you’ve been dying to take a peek at the bedroom.” Chloe winked and took Beca’s hand at the same time.

The younger girl was led through the door, and once they entered the next room, her eyes widened. The windows to the right were _huge_ , even bigger than the living room ones, and the bed in front of them– “Wow.” She took two steps forward, and put her hand on the sheets. Smooth and silky. Much like Chloe’s skin. They were a dark violet, and the color was so _different_ from everything she’d seen so far, so much _darker_ , that she couldn’t help but repeat, “Wow.” Her eyes wandered to the walls–they were white, but had golden patterns painted on them here and there–and then to Chloe. “This is amazing.”

“Thanks.” A big smile.

“Exactly _who_ helped you decorate this?” Beca asked as she sat down on the incredibly soft bed and raised a brow in Chloe’s direction, thereby feigning suspicion.

“Nobody,” came the prompt answer.

They held the eye contact until Chloe had sit down next to her.

“Okay,” the redhead admitted, “my mom.”

“You _mom_ helped you?” Beca asked, definitely taken by surprise. She, too, had an okay relationship with her parents, but she’d not let them have a say when it had come to her flat. “First of all, that’s nice.” She blinked. “I think. And, second of all– damn, she knows what’s up.”

Chloe laughed. “Yeah.”

Beca let her eyes wander again. On her right was a big–as in _really_ big–closet which covered the entire length of the room–wall–and only ended about an inch on the right to the bathroom door. “What the _hell_? How many clothes do you have?”

Chloe stood up and walked towards the piece. “Many.” To prove her point, she opened it.

“Damn, girl.” Beca let herself fall onto the mattress, and stared at the ceiling. “Hey, even your lamps are gorgeous.”

“My mom picked them.”

“Of course.”

“Hey, Becs, aren’t you tired?” Chloe asked suddenly, changing the subject.

As if on cue, Beca got hit by a wave of exhaustion, and she almost couldn’t keep her eyes open. “Yeah,” she mumbled.

“Well, maybe you should take your shoes off and actually lie on the bed with your _entire_ body, not just parts of it,” Chloe chuckled. It was louder than before, so she’d definitely come nearer.

“I don’t have my suitcase,” Beca said. In all honesty, though, she couldn’t have cared less. She would have _literally_ slept naked. She just wanted to rest. Why her tiredness had only hit her now, she couldn’t fathom. Maybe her body had decided the bed would be _great_ to sleep on. Better than a sofa. Or a car seat.

“That’s alright, you can have some of my stuff. I _do_ have lots of clothes in that big ass closet,” Chloe teased, and her voice was _right_ next to her–she was lying on the bed, too.

“Okay–” Beca yawned, but opened her eyes again– “just tell me which drawer and I’ll get changed.” She did _not_ want to get up, but the prospect of _finally_ getting her well-deserved sleep afterwards was enough to convince her to do so after all.

“The one on the far right, opposite the bedside table.”

Beca moved to her feet and looked for the instructed drawer. “Found it!” she exclaimed as she took out a pair of boxers and a top, “I’ll be back in a min.” With that, she walked into the bathroom. And instantly felt like she’d run into a _freaking_ swimming pool.

Chloe had _not_ joked when she’d said there would be a lot of mint green. The walls, the floor, the sink, the toilet seat, the _shower_ –everything was mint green. Well, okay, there _was_ a pink toothbrush and the shampoo bottles were white, but beside that–

“I can’t see where one thing ends and the next starts. How do you not get eye cancer in here?” Beca yelled to the girl on the bed next door through a now-closed door.

The only reply she received was a muttered, “Ass.”

She laughed as she imagined how Chloe had to have rolled her eyes–and then got changed. Before she finally got back into the bedroom–very, _very_ tired and more than ready to climb into bed and sleep for an entire day–she combed her hair with a _non_ -mint green comb. “Love the colors,” she said sarcastically, walking around the bed. To _her_ side.

“I hate you,” Chloe mumbled.

Ignoring the words, Beca moved as close to her as possible, and buried her face in the girl’s hair. “No, you don’t.”

“No,” Chloe sighed as she put her arms around Beca’s waist and pulled her close, “I don’t.”

Being inside Chloe’s arms–feeling the warmth of her body again–made it easy for Beca to fall asleep. It had been _so_ long since she had been embraced like this, had felt this good. The weight of Chloe’s arm on her upper body, the softness of the sheets, the thought of it being _Chloe_ ’s bed she was in–she found herself being the most comfortable she’d been in a while. A happy smile graced her lips as she drifted off to the sleep she _desperately_ wanted and needed.

She woke up when it was already dark outside. Nothing was visible through the windows except for one or the other plane going by. She just lay there, listening to Chloe’s even breathing. After a few minutes, she realized she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again, and she sat up. She stretched, yawned, rubbed her eyes, and finally moved over to the edge of the bed to turn on the bedside lamp. The brightness of it made her wince. “Damn,” she cursed quietly.

It hadn’t been quiet _enough_. The blanket beside her moved and she mentally scolded herself for waking Chloe up.

“What’re you doing?” the girl asked with a raspy voice.

“Sorry,” she apologized as she crawled over to where Chloe was now slowly opening her eyes. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Chloe smiled a tired smile. “It’s okay.”

“Do you want to stay here? I could go next door and let you sleep,” Beca offered and let her hand caress Chloe’s cheek at the same time. The girl leaned into the touch. Beca swore she was about to purr and bit her lip to stop herself from chuckling.

“Nah,” Chloe replied, “let’s get up.”

“Alright.”

The first thing they did after leaving the bedroom was go into the kitchen that wasn’t really a kitchen. Beca hadn’t eaten since her flight, and she’d noticed when she’d woken up that her stomach _definitely_ needed to be filled. “Are cheese sandwiches okay?” Chloe asked her once she opened the fridge.

“Sure. I don’t really care _what_ I eat, I just need _something_.” She realized too late how the words had sounded.

By the time she did, Chloe was already smirking. “We could go back to bed.”

Beca rolled her eyes playfully at the words. “No, actually, scratch that. I do care. Cheese sandwiches sound a lot better than– than _that_.”

“I’m offended.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not. Give me my sandwich.”

Chloe raised her brows, but did as she’d been told and grabbed the bread before stepping away from the fridge. She closed it and handed Beca the snack.

They sat down on the couch together, and Beca took her first bite. It was heavenly. “When you haven’t eaten anything in so long, everything suddenly tastes amazing,” she said mid-chewing. “This is perfect.”

“I’d take that as a compliment if you weren’t starved to death.”

Beca glared at Chloe.

“Alright, well,” the older girl started, “do you want something to drink? I have beer. And vodka.” She looked at Beca–who was staring at her with a frown. “Oh, right, you don’t drink vodka. Well–I could make you one of your daiquiris.”

Beca’s eyes lit up. Once she’d swallowed her last bite, she exclaimed, “No way!” and hugged Chloe.

The girl chuckled.

“I can’t believe you googled the recipe and bought everything you need just so you could make me my new favorite drink. You’re whipped,” Beca said after a while, and her face bore an amused expression.

“Yeah, I am.”

“Not to mention you actually sat down, searched for my flight info and drove to the airport to see me ASAP. I’d never voluntarily set foot into that big ass building.” Beca drew back and looked at Chloe whose cheeks were slightly flushed. “Aw, you’re whipped _and_ embarrassed, that’s so cute!” she giggled.

“Don’t call me that,” Chloe mumbled and got up. “Just shut up before I rethink making you that drink.” She started pouting on her way to the counter.

“Sorry,” Beca said as she, too, got up, “You’re right. I shouldn’t make fun of you. It’s actually super cute. I mean–everything is. The waiting, the drink…” She trailed off and looked at Chloe. She smiled. It really _was_ cute. Lovely. Endearing. _Perfect_ . This girl had welcomed her in the most amazing way. Becoming aware, again, of the fact that Chloe, the girl who was _right in front of her_ , really _did_ care about her, the same way she had shown her before, was– She didn’t know how else to voice what she was thinking about, so she simply said _it_. “I love you.”

And it was true. She loved what Chloe was doing, _had been_ doing for her. She _loved Chloe_ , period. And Chloe deserved to hear it. Again and again. Because she was _Chloe_. Perfect Chloe who would hopefully continue doing all these incredibly thoughtful things–for the rest of her life.

Beca _absolutely_ loved Chloe, and as the girl poured her some of the already prepared strawberry-flavored cocktail, she couldn’t help the tears from starting to stream down her face. Never in a million years would she ever have expected any of this. Meeting a girl on a holiday who turned out to be almost her neighbor, falling for her, losing her, seeing her again–it was a dream come true.

She felt Chloe wipe away the tears only seconds later, and she smiled through them. “You’re perfect, you know that?” She leaned into the gentle touch. She’d called Chloe perfect in her mind a hundred times before, but she’d never said it out loud. She wished she had, though, as Chloe said,

“I love you so much,” and kissed her like there was no tomorrow.

Beca knew they’d exchanged _I love you_ s before, but this was different. Before this, there had _always_ been that one tiny hidden part of her who had doubted the _realness_ of it all.

But finally, she was one hundred percent certain as she–later in the night–looked into Chloe’s eyes, that Chloe loved her, too. Unconditionally.

Even with the buzz of the alcohol from their long-since finished drinks coursing through their veins, with everything else forgotten, with giggles on their faces and glazed-over expressions, with sticky skin from endless love making sessions that had followed the drinking; even with the knowledge that the emotions could have easily been manipulated by the heat of the moment, there was absolutely _no_ doubt in Beca’s mind anymore that she’d spend, _want_ to spend the rest of her days with the girl. A perfect, blue-eyed girl.

And, just to make sure, she asked, “Do you want to spend the rest of your life with me?” She knew, deep down, in a way, that it was an odd question to ask someone who you’d spent a mere week with–and without–yet, somehow, in their case, it did not feel odd at all. And Chloe did not hesitate for a second before she answered,

“Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> the end :)


End file.
